


five kisses, three words, one question

by quakeriders



Series: acotar au week [3]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Five Times, Fluff and Humor, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21757264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quakeriders/pseuds/quakeriders
Summary: “C’mon, Feyre. It will be fun.” Layla said, throwing a colourful mix of clothing into her bubblegum pink carry-on. “You can meet my brothers and cousin.”Or: Five times Feyre and Rhys celebrate New Years togetheracotarauweek 🎄 day 03: christmas/holiday au
Relationships: Feyre Archeron/Rhysand
Series: acotar au week [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566274
Comments: 58
Kudos: 178
Collections: ACOTAR AU Week





	1. New Years Eve, 2015

“C’mon, Feyre. It will be fun.” Layla said, throwing a colourful mix of clothing into her bubblegum pink carry-on. “You can meet my brothers and cousin.”

Feyre turned onto her back, watching her roommate bounce on the balls of her feet.

“I don’t know.” Feyre muttered, toying with the frayed edge of her comforter. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense.” Layla cut her off. “Dad always invites too many people anyway.”

Feyre was about to say something else, when Layla plopped down on the bed next to her and took hold of Feyre’s hand. “What are you going to do here? Kiss that creep Tamlin on midnight? Ugh, no. No way, I’m leaving my best friend behind to suffer through that.”

Feyre let out a snort, rolling her eyes a bit. She thought best friend might be slight exaggeration, since they had only known each other since September but she appreciated the sentiment.

Actually, she appreciated Layla’s friendship a lot. Being a scholarship student at an ivy league school was tough enough and she had been pleasantly surprised that her roommate turned out to be surprisingly down to earth, despite her father being a senator.

Besides, Feyre really did not want to kiss Tamlin on New Years Eve. And seeing as the only party she had been invited to this year was Lucien’s, the chances were high that Tamlin would at least try it.

She sighed in defeat. “Alright. Fine.”

Layla clapped her hands together, looking delighted. Then, she grabbed Feyre again and pulled her upright. “Good. Pack your stuff or we’ll be late.”

\--

They drove for almost eight hours, taking turns behind the wheel. The latest pop hit blasted from the speakers of Layla’s ridiculously luxurious car, as they sipped energy drinks that tasted like caffeinated sugar.

Feyre couldn’t help but gape as they pulled up in front of a manor house that looked like a castle.

From what she knew about Layla and her family, she wasn’t really surprised. Still, she felt a little underdressed in her leggings and sweater, topped with a messy bun. As soon as Layla had parked the car, she was stumbling out of it and running up the pathway.

She had barely reached the front door, when it was flung open and a gorgeous blonde let out a high pitched scream and pulled Layla in for a tight hug.

Feyre slowly followed up the gravel path, her battered duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

The two women let go of each other and Layla gestured to Feyre. “Mor, this is Feyre. Feyre, this is Morrigan, my cousin and favourite person in the world.”

“Second favourite person.” An amused voice corrected from inside the house and Layla let out a bright laugh as she launched herself at a guy who was probably two feet taller than her and three times as wide. His muscled arms wrapped around her, lifting her off her feet as they hugged.

“Cass!” She laughed.

But then Mor was walking up to Feyre and grinning. “Hello, Feyre. I’ve heard so much about you. Nice to finally put a face to all the stories.”

“Likewise,” Feyre tried to awkwardly jut out her hand, but the blonde had already pulled her into a hug that was fierce and quick and warmed Feyre’s heart a little.

“Where’s mom?” Layla asked. “And Rhys and Az?”

The guy lowered her, throwing Feyre a wink and offering her his hand. It was broad and calloused, but gentle. “I’m Cassian, and who are you, sweetheart?”

“Oh, no.” Layla said, pushing between them and shoving Cass’ arm down. “Don’t even think about it.”

He chuckled. “What? I was just introducing myself.”

“Yes, but you gave her that look.”

“What look?”

A smooth voice replied before Layla could. “You know exactly what look, Cassian.”

Feyre flicked her eyes over Layla’s shoulder and was struck dumb by the sight that greeted her.

She had seen pictures of him. Well, a picture-- in which Layla had been ten and he had been fourteen. He had looked handsome but lanky in them; barely into puberty and slightly awkward. But this twenty two year old Rhysand was something else.

He was quite literally the most handsome guy she’d ever seen. 

And he was leaning against the doorframe with an easy grace, wearing a dark purple shirt, it’s sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone. A sly smirk was on his face as he looked at Feyre and she was pretty sure her lungs had forgotten how to properly work.

“Rhys!”

And as the siblings hugged, Feyre mentally shook herself.

\--

The fancy party, hosted by Layla’s parents, was going on downstairs. After maybe half an hour, Feyre, Layla and her brothers as well as her cousin had moved upstairs into a smaller living room, that was still larger than the house Feyre had grown up in.

Live music was floating up from downstairs, as well as the chatter of almost fifty people.

Feyre was slightly tipsy on the champagne, leaning back on the couch as she listened to Layla talk about her experiences at Yale so far.

Mor and Rhys asked about their old professors and Layla was only too happy to complain about all of them. Every once in a while, they asked Feyre what she thought. But since she was enrolled in the Fine Arts program, while they had all studied - or in Layla’s care were currently studying - Business, Law or some other serious and Senator Night approved major, there wasn’t much overlap.

Until that is, Feyre found out that Rhysand had taken an Astronomy course back in his second semester. Somehow, while talking about their experiences with Professor Suriel, she had forgotten to be shy around him and had started enjoying his wicked humour.

It was actually quite easy to like Layla’s family. Unlike her own, they all seemed to adore Layla and were genuinely interested in how she was doing. Since September, Elain had maybe called Feyre twice, while Nesta had only sent a message just last week to wish her a happy birthday. Feyre strongly suspected that Elain had forced her to do that.

Cassian had pulled out a couple of board games and some very hard liquor. While he had made all of them drinks, Cassian had explained that unlike the rest of his fancy foster family, he had worked as a bartender after high school and then joined the military.

Azriel, Layla’s other foster brother had gotten a degree in Computer Science and together with Mor and Rhys, they had started a company right out of college. Until, Rhys had decided to go back for a master’s degree at Cornell.

Feyre was highly interested in all of their stories, mostly because it seemed that whenever Cassian and Mor were involved, things usually went wrong in the best of ways.

But after a while of constantly sipping on one drink or another, her head was swimming a little.

She excused herself, mumbling that she needed some fresh air. She didn’t have to go far. The room had a spacious balcony and Feyre stepped out with a deep sigh.

When she looked up, her breath caught in her throat.

It was dark enough for her to see the stars. And like always, she felt a little awed as her eyes took in the countless lights that shone down on her.

“It’s almost time.” Feyre heard Layla say from inside. “Dad’s probably already mad we aren’t down there. Feyre, we’re heading downstairs, are you coming?”

“Yeah, I am.” Feyre called back, but didn’t move.

Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to tear her gaze away from the sky. She knew that in a few minutes, all the fireworks would cloud this wonderful sight and she wanted to drink it up as long as she could.

She was startled when someone else joined her on the balcony.

“Stargazing, are we?” Rhys asked, the corner of his mouth pulling up slightly.

Feyre looked to him, then back at the stars and smiled. “Don’t you think it’s better than fireworks?”

“Yes.”

Feyre felt his eyes on her and she tried to hide the flush that rose to her cheeks.

From downstairs, Feyre could hear people counting down and she finally looked at Rhys.

“Why didn’t you go down there with the others?” She asked, her voice barely a whisper.

His smile turned gentle. “I wanted to look at the stars before the fireworks blocked the view.”

Feyre let out a shaky breath, returning his smile.

As they looked at each other, the people began cheering and the first fireworks began exploding in the distance.

“Happy New Year, Feyre.” Rhys said, suddenly very close.

She didn’t know what drover her, but suddenly she was leaning up and felt his breath fan over her face.

“Happy New Year, Rhys.” She whispered back and then they were kissing.


	2. New Years Eve, 2016

“Did you get the champagne?” Feyre asked, as she dropped the two bags filled with groceries.

Layla shuffled out of their bathroom, wearing a large Yale shirt that hit her thighs and a pair of leggings that had seen better days. She lifted her arms, showing Feyre the neon yellow elbow length gloves she was wearing.

“Do I look like I got the champagne?”

Feyre bit back a smile and an _I told you so_.

They had finally found an apartment off campus, but the moving in had proved to be difficult. Mostly because it seemed that they hadn’t been informed about the leaky toilet and only after three weeks, their bathroom had flooded over.

The workers had finished their work two days ago, and over the holidays it had been impossible to find someone who would clean up the mess they had left behind.

Still, Layla had insisted on throwing a New Years party at their new place. Especially, since this year her parents were invited to some charity event in DC and she finally had her own place.

So, they had invited Mor, Cassian, Azriel and Rhys.

Feyre felt a pang of guilt, whenever Layla mentioned her brother. Because, conveniently, Feyre had forgotten to mention the kiss they had shared during last year’s party.

She had tried to tell herself that it wasn’t a big deal. Since, she hadn’t seen Layla’s brother since then. Still, sometimes, when she thought about the kiss, she couldn’t help but blush.

Layla let out a groan and for a split second, Feyre was worried that her best friend had somehow read the thoughts in her mind. But then Layla flashed her a charming smile and spoke in a honeyed voice, “Dearest roommate, would you please get the champagne while I finish up cleaning the bathroom?”

Feyre let out a sigh. Mixed with relief and exasperation. She dropped the groceries on the kitchen counter and began unpacking the things that needed to be put in the refrigerator.

“Sure, as long as I don’t have to clean up that mess.”

Layla beamed, looking like she might want to hug her but thinking better of it. So, she spun around on her heels and headed back into the warzone that was their bathroom.

–

When Feyre returned from picking up their frankly ridiculous order of champagne – why would six people need twelve bottles? – she found Layla still in the same outfit, but Azriel and Cassian had already arrived.

By the looks of them, they had entered right before Feyre. Both of them were still wearing their coats, their faces red from the bitter cold outside and Cassian complaining about the lack of parking spaces that was in a reasonable walking distance to their apartment.

“Well, it’s your fault for being so late.” Layla shot back at him. She put her gloved hand on her hip and fixed him with a withering glance.

“Late?” Cassian asked, brows raising. “We’re two hours early!”

Azriel let out a soft breath that might have been a chuckle, but just then they all noticed Feyre, who was awkwardly carrying two boxes in her arms and stumbling into the apartment.

At once, both guys were on her, taking the boxes from her and giving her cheeky grins. “Hey you, long time no see.” Cassian said.

Feyre gave him a small smile, pointing towards the kitchenette to put the boxes down. “Right back at you. For someone who claims to be Layla’s favourite person, you don’t call or visit as often as Mor does.”

His brows rose, if possible, even higher. “The snake. She never told me about coming here.”

Layla let out a cackling laugh, slipping off her gloves and throwing them into the bathroom. “I give up.” She sighed. “It’s mostly usable, just don’t look at the tub.”

Feyre rolled her eyes, having known already that getting the whole bathroom clean would have been a true miracle. “It’ll have to do.”

“I’m still hoping that Rhys will go all cleaning fairy on it and spend the whole night making it perfect.” Layla muttered and Feyre couldn’t help but laugh at that.

The thought of Rhysand with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up and wearing those ridiculous neon gloves was just too amusing.

Cassian had been bent over the boxes, when he straightened up, holding up one of the twelve bottles and frowned at both of them. “Do you think is going to be enough?” He asked, voice full of scepticism.

“It’s twelve bottles.” Feyre shot back, frowning right back at him. “We’re six people.”

“So, no?” He said and Layla let out a bright laugh.

–

Azriel and Cassian helped them put up the last bits of decoration. Actually, before they did that, they actually helped them tidy up the living room.

Feyre had soon understood that Layla had planned for this. That as soon as her brothers showed up, they would gladly help them out.

So, Feyre found herself on the couch with Layla, while Cassian popped open the nights first bottle.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Mor and Rhys?” Feyre asked, but to her surprise it was Az, who let out a snort.

“God no, I need to be drunk before those drama queens arrive.” Cassian said and drowned his first glass before even filling the others.

Feyre learned what he meant by drama queens, when the doorbell rang and Mor and Rhys made their entrance.

Both of them were carrying large boxes in their hands and grinning like cats.

“What’s that?” Feyre asked Cassian, who was right beside her on the couch. She had asked him, because Layla had jumped up and towards her cousin and brother.

As she did so, she couldn’t help but let her eyes trail over Rhys.

It had been a year, but she had thought about him often. Mostly, when she was alone and feeling sorry for herself.

She blushed, when Cassian took too long to answer and she turned to find him looking at her with a smirk.

“What?” She shot at him, but he just sipped from his glass and shrugged. Still smirking.

Had Rhys told him? All of them?

Before the thought could take root and run circles in her mind, Rhys’ eyes met hers from across the room and something flickered in them. A faint flush rose to his cheeks and Feyre could’ve sworn that her heart stumbled over a beat at the sight.

Their gazes held, then both of them broke away.

Feyre’s eyes landing on Cassian’s face. His brows lifted, lips parted and eyes on Rhys.

So, he hadn’t told them?

Cassian was just a very good observer.

Feyre got off the couch, before he had the chance to ask her and hugged Mor in greeting. Before she could decide what to do about Rhys, she had been pulled into a hug.

He still smelled like citrus and the sea and as his arms wrapped around her, Feyre felt the need to bury her face in his neck.

Holy crap. She hadn’t thought her crush on Layla’s brother had gotten so bad. Sure, over the past year, she’d gone out on only two dates, both of which had ended with Feyre ghosting them.

Honestly, she should’ve known that those violet eyes and those full lips were the reason.

“Hello Feyre.” Rhys murmured, while Layla and Mor were busy ripping open the boxes.

She blinked up at him, sad to be out of his embrace. “Hey.” She replied, like the damned fool she was.

“Feyre, look at this!” Layla yelled.

Feyre turned to see a huge bowl, painted intricately and looking far more expensive than everything Feyre owned – combined.

“It’s a housewarming gift.” Mor added, grinning.

“Oh, how wonderful.” Cassian mumbled.

But Feyre couldn’t help but grin. Layla and her hadn’t had the time yet to decorate the place.

Mor held up another piece of decor, matching the bowl, and added a bit sheepishly, “I hope you guys like it.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Feyre told her.

–

Feyre was in the kitchen, washing a few plates because they had run out of clean dishes, when Layla approached her.

Her roommate leaned heavily against the counter and fixed Feyre with a look. A long look that usually meant there was something they needed to talk about.

Feyre was sure she knew what was coming, but no amount of knowing could have prepared her for Layla’s next words.

“What’s going on between you and Rhys?”

Feyre stopped washing the dishes. She stopped any and all movements. She even stopped breathing.

Then, slowly, she turned off the water and turned to face her best friend. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t want to lie. Didn’t want to deceive Layla.

But Layla let out a snort and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, please. Do you think I’m stupid? Or blind? You two have been gawking at each other all night. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were sleeping with him.”

“I- No- What?” Feyre spluttered, feeling herself flush.

Layla sighed. “Was that your way of making me believe that there’s nothing?”

Feyre let out a groan, closing her eyes and almost ran a hand through her hair before she remembered they were both still wet and soapy.

And then, before her courage could leave her, Feyre muttered, “We kissed last year. At the party. Nothing else, I swear.”

Layla remained silent.

Which was highly unusual because Layla never remained silent and Feyre mentally prepared herself for the fight that was to come.

But then, Layla began giggling. At first it was a soft, silent giggle but soon, she threw her head back and it turned into booming laughter.

Feyre stared at her, amazed at the tears that escaped the corner of Layla’s eyes as she gripped her stomach and kept laughing. Finally, she managed to wheeze out, “You… kissed? That’s it?”

Gritting her teeth, Feyre wiped her hands dry on a towel and glared at her friend. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you two have been acting like you’ve been secretly dating all night.”

Feyre was the one, who had no words now.

“Oh, my god. Have you been dating?”

“No!” Feyre almost yelled. But she felt her cheeks flush.

Layla looked at her, noting the change. Then, her smile turned wicked. “But you want to date him. You’re so into him, I can tell.”

Feyre looked away, swallowing hard.

“I can’t believe this.” Layla muttered, mostly to herself and Feyre was still looking for the right words, when her best friend stormed out of their kitchen and left Feyre to stew.

–

Not five minutes later, someone else entered the kitchen.

Feyre had returned to the dishes and mentally prepared herself for Layla to finally lash out at her.

Instead, Rhys cleared his throat. “Um, Layla said you needed my help.”

Feyre spun around, finding Rhys a couple steps away from her. “I didn’t-” She began, but stopped when she realized what Layla had done.

Rhys seemed to realize, too. And let out a quiet sigh. “She also said something else, but–” He trailed off and Feyre’s cheeks flushed once more as she imagined Layla having a similar conversation with Rhys.

“She talked to me, too.” Feyre said and it was Rhys’ time to blush.

“Ah.” He said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “That’s why she knew.”

Feyre didn’t know why she felt guilty. About kissing him. About telling her that she had kissed him.

But it didn’t seem like neither sibling blamed her.

“So, do you need my help?” Rhys asked, nodding towards the dishes.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’m already here, I might as well.”

She pointed towards a towel. “You can dry those.”

“Alright.”

His body stepped up to her side and Feyre tried to ignore it. Ignore his presence and what it did to her.

But try as she might, he didn’t seem to want to ignore her. As he dried a few plates, he turned his body so that it was angled towards her.

“How’s school?” He asked and despite his light question, there was something else in his tone. A quiet intensity that begged for her to look at him.

And when she did, she found those brilliant eyes fixed on her face. Flickering between her eyes, sliding down to look at her nose, at the freckles on her cheeks and finally, they lowered to her lips.

“Good.” She said, her throat dry. She blindly shut off the water and reached for the towel that was no longer where she had last left it.

Since it was now in his hands.

Rhys smiled, putting down the plate and reaching for her hands. He dried them one after the other and Feyre didn’t look away from his face as his hands gently rubbed her own dry.

She swallowed hard and asked, “How about you?”

He blinked up at her, confused. “What?”

“How’s school for you?” Feyre asked.

“Good.” Rhys said and then he dropped the towel and stepped closer.

The first brush of his lips against hers, sent shivers down her spine. His hands came up to softly rest on her hips as her own, still cold from the water, slid around his neck and into his hair.

Their kiss deepened and where their first kiss had been soft and tentative, this kiss was deep and searching and tinted with longing.

Feyre pulled him closer, until she was pressed right into his body and she had to tilt her head back to keep kissing him. His hands wrapped around her, one pressing into the small of her back, while the other slid up to rest between her shoulder blades.

A small groan slipped from his throat and Feyre couldn’t help but nip at his bottom lip.

After that, she felt his tongue pushing against her lips and she opened for him. They kissed, hungry and desperate and lost in their own world until they heard Cassian’s booming voice chanting something.

Counting down the seconds.

And when he stopped, the sounds of cheers from the living room and fireworks from outside were nothing compared to the ragged breath they shared.

“I want to see you again, Feyre. Before next years party.” Rhys whispered against her lips, still holding her against him.

Feyre smiled at him, feeling lightheaded. “Well, you know where I live.”


	3. New Years Eve, 2017

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you @nomattertheoceans for beta reading and making this chapter possible. everyone, please go check out her fic "Staying Afloat", it’s my favorite feysand fic!

Feyre hummed a Christmas tune under her breath as she carefully fixed a bit of tinsel that had come loose over the mirror in the entryway. **  
**

Despite it being New Years Eve, Layla and her had decided to keep the Christmas decorations up. Not because either of them were particularly festive or liked having them, but simply because neither of them was in the mood or had the time to clean everything up.

Especially not the 7 foot tree and its golden star on top that just grazed the living room ceiling.

“Stop that.” Layla gritted through her teeth. She was sitting cross-legged on their couch and despite them being on Christmas break, her laptop was on her lap and she fixed first Feyre then it with a furious glare.

Feyre swallowed her chuckle and stopped humming. “Sorry.”

But she couldn’t really bring herself to feel sorry. She was giddy, barely able to sit still while Layla finished working on her project so they could finally leave.

As she let her eyes sweep over the living room to check if anything else needed to be tidied up before they left for the two day celebration, she caught her best friend rolling her eyes.

“What?” Feyre asked, already guessing what this was about.

“You’re too freaking giddy, I can’t concentrate like this.”

“I’m not giddy.” A lie, but Feyre was nothing if not stubborn.

“You are. Honestly, if you don’t stop humming terrible Christmas music under your breath, I will uninvite you from the party.” Layla said, raising a dark brow. A corner of her mouth twitched as they looked at each other.

“Sorry to break it to you, babe, but you didn’t invite me. Ergo, you can’t uninvite me.” Feyre shot back, not hiding her own grin.

They hadn’t even said his name, but Feyre couldn’t help but think back to their last date.

It had been perfect.

Well, almost perfect.

They had met up at campus after lunch. Rhys had met with one of his old professors before that and Feyre had felt less guilty about him making the almost 5 hour trip to spend some time with her.

They hadn’t really planned anything specific, mostly because during their previous dates, they had been meticulous about planning out every little moment and then being disappointed by their ability to stay on track.

So, Feyre and Rhys had met on campus right as it had begun to rain.

And instead of going to her apartment or to a mall to get out of the rain, Rhys had suggested Yale’s very own Art Gallery with a smirk that told Feyre he knew exactly what that suggestion did to her.

For the next few hours, Rhys hadn’t let go of her hand as Feyre pulled him from one favorite to another. As much as she loved creating paintings herself, she also loved to study great works of art.

And after two years at Yale, she knew the layout of the gallery like the back of her hand.

Rhys, to his credit, hadn’t looked bored or exasperated. He had listened attentively and sometimes even offered his own opinion on a painting.

Every time that had happened Feyre had looked at him and had to force herself not to kiss him right then and there.

He was handsome, attentive and he had an eye for art.

She didn’t want to think it but, her heart had clenched painfully every time time he had squeezed her hand in response to her grinning wildly at him.

Afterwards, they had been famished and eaten a quick dinner in a quiet little restaurant, Feyre had never seen before.

And when Rhys had driven her home and walked her up to her apartment door, he had brushed away her hair slowly and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

Their chaste kiss had quickly turned heated and Feyre hadn’t noticed that Rhys had pushed her against the apartment door, or that his mouth had moved down her neck, or that she had thrown her head back and moaned as she felt his tongue slide over her sensitive skin.

However, their bubble burst when the door at her back had been opened and both Feyre and Rhys had nearly toppled over Layla, who had come to check what or who was making so much noise in the hall.

That was when their perfect date had turned into stuttered apologies (from Feyre), gagging noises (from Layla) and a flick on Layla’s nose with a suggestion not to stick into places where it didn’t belong (from Rhys).

He had left not soon after that, saying that he needed to be up early the next day.

Feyre had felt bad for him making the journey back, Layla had offered him the couch — and only the couch — but Rhys had refused and with a kiss to Layla’s cheek, he had sauntered out of her life.

She had gotten a text five hours later, letting her know that he gotten home safe, that he had enjoyed their date very much and couldn’t wait to see her again.

At the memory, Feyre felt herself smile.

“Oh, my God,” Layla groaned, rolling her eyes. “I honestly don’t know, why I thought it would be a good idea for you two to get together.”

“We’re not together.” Feyre said immediately.

Despite Layla not wanting to hear any “gross” details, she had asked about their dates and Feyre wanted to make sure, Layla didn’t think this was more than it actually was.

“Really?” She asked, raising her brows and shutting her laptop with a sigh. “You’ve been on how many dates now? And what about the,” She made a face. “Kissing.”

Now it was Feyre’s turn to roll her eyes. Yes, it had been weird for Layla to find them making out but it wasn’t like Layla had never brought a guy home. Feyre had stumbled over too many hungover dudes wearing nothing and getting a glass of water in their kitchen to buy Layla’s expression of disgust.

“We’ve been on a couple of dates. We’re not together.”

“Whatever you say.” Layla said and then with more groaning, she got off the couch. “We should get going.”

—

They pulled up before a pale blue suburban, a few minutes away from Cornell’s main campus.

Feyre had known the address, but somehow she had imagined Rhys to be living much like her and Layla had been. An apartment, that wasn’t quite shitty but not nearly as nice as what the Night’s were used to.

But judging by the single car in the driveway and how Rhys appeared on the front porch by the time they had parked and got out of the car, it was clear that he lived alone.

Somehow, during their dates and phone calls, the topic had never come up.

He met them by the two steps that separated the little front lawn and the porch. Layla gave him a quick hug, grumbling something about “not needing to see this”. She slipped into the house by the time Feyre was standing before Rhys.

It had been eight weeks since their last date.

Since then, he had sent her quite a few messages and they had even talked on the phone a couple of nights every week. But just like always, Feyre couldn’t help the smile that pulled at her lips at the sight of him.

He was smiling, too. “Hello, Feyre darling.”

And since Layla had done them the favor of disappearing into the house, Feyre leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek and breathed, “Hey.”

She lingered, not wanting to move away from the heat of his body. He turned his face, their breath mingling and she could almost feel his lips on hers. His hand was warm when it came to gently rest on her waist and she tried and failed to keep her eyes open. The sound of another car pulling up made Rhys move away from her.

She felt cold and empty without him close and it took a few seconds for her to gather her thoughts.

Then, she followed Rhys’ gaze and found Mor, Cass and Az stumbling out of a car. Mor was grinning at her, Azriel looking polite as always but Cassian had a shit-eating grin on his face and Feyre mentally steeled herself for his next remark.

Instead, his expression melted away and he just said, “Feyre, long time no see!”

And then he threw his arms around her and pulled her into a bear hug that made her chuckle. Mor was next, pressing a quick kiss to Feyre’s cheek and squeezing her tightly.

They all moved inside, Feyre’s fingertips beginning to feel numb from standing outside for so long. Layla was sprawled out on a couch, arm slung over her eyes and she said, “Are you done? Can I open my eyes again?”

Cassian snorted and at the unexpected sound, Layla sat up, grinning.

Another round of hugs ensued as Layla jumped off the couch and into Cassian’s waiting arms.

—

Feyre felt weird.

It wasn’t like anyone was treating her differently.

Maybe that was her problem, though.

Except for Layla, no one even acknowledged that she and Rhys had been seeing each other. And no one — not even Cassian — gave her meaningful looks when she and Rhys seemingly lost themselves in each other.

Not that they were being obvious about it.

At least she thought so.

Rhys kept his distance, but it seemed like he couldn’t stop himself from looking at her. It was weird, being here in his home, with his family after all the time they had spent alone together.

She wished she had asked in what capacity she’d been invited to this party.

They had gone on a few dates, yes, but they weren’t dating. Right? At least, they had never committed themselves to each other, especially not to being exclusive. So, was she here as a friend, as a girl he sometimes saw or as Layla’s best friend and roommate?

As the hours ticked closer to midnight, she found herself fidgeting more and more. At some point, she stopped meeting his eyes altogether.

Not because she didn’t want to look at him, but because she realized that she hated not knowing where they stood.

And maybe, because she had just realized how badly she didn’t want to be just some girl he’d been on a few dates with.

Or, even worse, just Layla’s best friend.

So, Feyre avoided Rhys’ eyes even as she felt his gaze burning into her skin.

He realized it right away. She knew because all night, he had kept his distance but now, he was sitting next to her on the couch. Close enough for her to feel his warmth but far enough so that no part of their bodies touched.

She remembered their last date and how they had held hands for hours and hours, neither of them willing to let go of the other. She clasped her hands together on her lap and accidentally caught him watching the movement.

“Who’s coming with me to get the fireworks ready?” Cassian asked, swallowing his glass of whiskey and rising from the armchair.

Layla was the first to join and when she pouted, Azriel stood, too, albeit with a little sigh and shake of his head. Still, Feyre saw a corner of his mouth tugging up. Slightly.

She was surprised when Mor got on her feet as well and said, “I’m only coming because I don’t trust you not to accidentally set them off too early.”

But Feyre looked up in time to see the look that passed between her and Rhys.

And how Rhys shot her a grateful smile.

All of a sudden, she was alone with him.

Feyre didn’t know what do or say, so she waited.

Rhys let out a long breath. “Feyre, will you please look at me?”

She couldn’t. Not when she suddenly felt vulnerable and her heart was clenching painfully.

Rhys shifted around, not coming closer but angling his body towards her. She saw his hand reach out for her, moving as if to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear but dropped away at the last moment.

It was that hesitation that finally made her look at him.

“I shouldn’t have come.” She said before her courage left her.

He frowned. “Why?”

“Because this is weird.”

“I mean, it has been a bit weird, but Feyre, I’m very glad you’re here.”

She let out a rattled breath. And swallowed, hard. Then, feeling braver than before, she twisted on the couch so that they were face to face. “What are we doing, Rhys? I mean, what are we? Layla thinks we’re together, while Cassian acts like there’s nothing for him to make fun of. And I just don’t understand—”

“Oh.” Rhys breathed. And a small smile curved his lips.

“Don’t make fun of me.” She said, her eyes beginning to burn at his amusement.

“Oh, no. Feyre, I didn’t mean it like that.” He said quickly, moving forward and taking hold of her hands, which had still been twisted in her lap. “I just didn’t know why you were avoiding looking at me and now that I know—”

She didn’t look away from his searing gaze, even as his voice drifted off. “And now that you know?”

He smiled again. Wider and with a sparkle in his eyes.

Feyre really wanted to kiss him.

Or for him to kiss her.

“Now that I know, I can tell you that Cassian’s not been saying anything because I told him not to make you uncomfortable. I’m still a bit surprised myself that it worked. But Layla is Layla and no one can shut her up.”

Feyre let out a soft snort at that.

Rhys’ grin — impossibly — widened. “And, to answer your questions: We’re celebrating New Years Eve. And as for what we are, what do you want us to be?”

Her heart beat so hard in her chest that she was afraid he could hear it. She couldn’t answer that, not before asking a question of her own. “I have one question.”

“Ask me anything you want, darling.”

“Why did you invite me today? Is it because I’m Layla’s best friend or because not inviting me would have been weird or—”

She couldn’t bring herself to suggest anything else, but she didn’t need to. The grin on Rhys’ face faded and the expression on his face made her heart stumble over its erratic beat.

“I invited you, because I wanted you to be here. I wanted to see you, I always want to see you. I know it hasn’t been long since our last date, but Feyre, I’ve been missing you so much and while I love talking to you on the phone, seeing you is different.”

“I—” Feyre began. “I missed you, too.”

He gave her a sweet smile, leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Feyre’s eyes closed at the barely there graze of his lips against hers and even when he had moved away, she kept her eyes closed. She didn’t care that she must have been smiling like a fool.

A moment later, she felt him lean his forehead against hers and his breath against her lips. “I know I can’t see you everyday, but I want to. I want to listen to you talk about art for hours, I want to watch you recreate your favorite paintings or your own. I want to kiss you every morning and night and I just—”

Tears were gathering in Feyre’s eyes as he talked and she felt him pull away after she let out a shuddering breath. Finally, Feyre opened her eyes, only for Rhys to cup her face in his broad hands and brush away the barely there tears.

“I want you to be my girlfriend. And even if it’s too early, even if we’ve only been on a few dates, I want to tell you how I feel.”

She let out a watery laugh, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips.

When Feyre pulled away, Rhys’ eyes were glowing, the specks of silver more prominent. Almost like the fireworks they were about to miss. Or the stars that would be blocked out by them in a few moments.

“Then tell me how you feel, Rhys.” Feyre whispered, looking right into his eyes.

He smiled as he whispered back, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She kissed him again, and again. And when she wrapped her arms around his neck and his own slid down her body to wrap around her waist, someone coughed behind them.

“Ugh, again?” Layla groaned. “Get your asses outside or you’re going to miss the fireworks.”

They heard her stomping footsteps retreat and then the back door slamming shut.

Rhys laughed quietly, even as Feyre pressed her burning face into the crook of his neck. But he pressed a soft kiss to her temple and said, “We better go before she comes back.”

So, with their hands clasped tightly, Feyre and Rhys joined the others in the back garden and watched as Layla and Cassian fumbled with an unnecessary amount of fireworks.

Azriel was checking his watch, counting down the seconds and as soon as it struck midnight, Rhys pulled Feyre into his arms and kissed her.

She laughed into the kiss, even as Layla’s firework backfired and hit the garden fence.

And she kept laughing, when Cassian and Layla got into a fight about whose fault it was.

Rhys was laughing, too. His arm still wrapped around her and his breath hot against her temple.

And when they went to sleep at the early hours of the morning, Feyre still laughed softly as Rhys pressed a kiss to her lips, pulling the covers over both of them and whispered, “Good night, darling.”


	4. New Years Eve, 2019

Feyre let herself fall into the plush bedding, letting out a soft giggle as she did so. “I think I need a headboard like this at home, too.” **  
**

Rhys rolled his eyes. Probably because Feyre had said the very same thing at least a dozen times during the last two days. Especially whenever they returned to their suite after doing everything a tourist should do during a romantic getaway in Paris.

But as she got comfortable on the bed now, feeling refreshed and relaxed from their couples massage at the ridiculously luxurious spa downstairs, she gave Rhys a slow smile.

“Are you just going to stand there and gawk at me, babe?”

Something in his eyes flashed at her words, his lips tugging up at the corners in a way that made Feyre sit up and lick her lips.

“Why?” Rhys purred, but kneeled on the bed beside her. “I thought you wanted to go on a walk along the Seine before the party.”

Right, the party. When Rhys had suggested going to Paris for a weekend, Feyre had thought that it would be a waste of money, especially for a three day trip when the flight lasted almost as long. But then Senator Night had gotten an invitation from an old business partner, who was hosting a New Years Party in Paris. And since Rhys’ father was hosting a party himself, he had suggested that his son should attend in his stead. So, here they were. Spending three days in the city of love.

And it seemed that both of them were determined to make the most of it.

“I changed my mind.” She whispered, reaching for him.

They fell back into the sheets, her lips at his neck and his arms wrapping around her.

And as Rhys pulled her sweater over her head, Feyre thought she could get used to this. To studying legendary works of art and falling into bed with her boyfriend all day.

—

Two hours later Feyre was in the bathroom, a curling iron in hand and frown on her face. She was wearing a plush hotel robe, her makeup mostly done save for the lipstick.

Only her hair was not cooperating.

She could hear Rhys shuffling about their suite, likely getting dressed. But then she heard him groan. A second later, he drawled, “What do you want?”

Feyre couldn’t hear anyone replying. She rolled her eyes at the dumbstruck expression that she saw on the mirror when she realized that he was talking to someone on the phone.

And judging by his tone, it could only be Layla or Cassian on the other end.

“No, we’re not wishing you were here with us.” He said, ire rolling off his every word.

Layla, then.

Feyre clamped her lips together and curled another strand of hair around the curling iron.

“We’re getting ready for the party. Tell dad not to worry, I’ll make nice with everyone.” His voice was closer now and Feyre spotted him leaning against the doorway.

He was halfway dressed. Wearing black dress pants, a white button-up and a bow tie that was hanging around his neck, still undone. His hair was a mess, looking like someone had tugged at the ends while rolling around in the sheets.

He winked at her through the mirror. Feyre shook her head, but smiled back.

“Look, Layla, as much as I love listening to you complain about.. everything, I need to get dressed and help Feyre with her hair because she’s about to burn half of it off.”

“Am not.” Feyre bit back, glaring at him.

He stepped closer, close enough for Feyre to hear Layla’s laughter through the phone. She glared at it and then at her boyfriend.

Rhys just pressed a kiss to the fingers wrapped around the curling iron and took it from her. He gave her the phone and turned her around to work on her hair.

She sighed, putting Layla on loudspeaker and saying, “Tell your insufferable brother to stop fussing. I can do my own hair.” She met Rhys’ eyes and smirked. Then in a low voice, she added, “You should fix yours, babe.”

“Ugh, why?” Layla asked, her voice sharp. “No, wait! Don’t tell me, I don’t even know why I even asked. Two years and I’m still asking. Why do I hate myself?”

Feyre and Rhys looked at each other, both of them rolling their eyes.

His long fingers gently separated a new strand and wrapped it around the iron. After a few moments of silence, he began tapping his fingers against it to check if it was time to release the hair.

She watched as he bit his bottom lip, eyes fixed on his task.

“Guys?” Layla asked, her voice strained. “Are you still there?”

“Yes.” Feyre said, licking her lips. “But like Rhys said, we’re getting ready and if we keep telling you everything we’re doing in great detail, we’re going to be late.”

“Fine.” Layla snorted. “I’ll tell dad that Rhys isn’t taking this seriously and you decided not to go to the party.”

She hung up the phone, her cackling laughter echoing for a moment longer in the marble bathroom.

Rhys sighed, wrapping the next strand around the iron. “He’ll call me in in approximately two seconds.”

—

They managed to be on time. And as they took the elevator down, Rhys assured his father at length that he would be on his best behaviour. Even as his eyes trailed down Feyre’s exposed back. Feyre noticed, because while he was looking at her, Feyre was watching him through the mirror.

The elevator was opulent, much like the rest of the hotel they were staying at.

If it had been up to Feyre, she might have picked something more.. down to earth. But the party would be taking place in one of the ballrooms right here and Rhys’ father had already booked them a suite that he himself would have stayed at, had he come instead.

So, as the doors opened, Feyre’s breath caught again at the sight of the golden chandeliers and marble floors of the lobby. Everything was bathed in soft golden light and Feyre almost didn’t want to walk on the shiny floor in fear of ruining the whole place.

Rhys’ hand came to rest on the exposed bit of skin on her lower back and gently pushed her forward. She smiled at him, at how handsome he looked with his black suit and bow tie.

So proper and so unlike the man, who would spend the whole day in their bed wearing nothing but a dazed expression. She leaned up and pressed her lips to his jaw, whispering, “I love you.”

He smiled down at her, violet eyes glittering in the low light of the lobby. “I love you, too, darling.”

He took her arm, gently curling it around his own and then lead her to the ballroom.

And for the next two hours, they were cooed over by friends of Rhys’ father. They were complimenting them on what a nice couple they were, about how they insisted on being invited to the wedding. They inquired about Feyre’s life and then delighted at the prospect of talking to an up and coming artist.

After a while, Feyre grew bored of the pretty smile she was forced to wear and Rhys’ overly cordial tone. She grew bored of these rich and powerful people and she found herself reaching for more flutes of champagne and at a far faster rate than before.

Rhys noticed — because of course he would. And when he wrapped an arm around her, leaning down so his breath caressed her ear, he whispered, “Do you want to leave?”

Feyre turned her face to him, their noses brushing. “It’s eleven, Rhys. This is a New Years Party.”

He gave her a slow, lazy grin that made her insides clench. And then, his lips were back against the shell of her ear and he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear, “So, what? There’s a bed waiting for us upstairs and as much as I love seeing you in this dress, I would rather see you out of it.”

Feyre swallowed thickly, gripping the flute so hard she worried it might shatter in her grip. “We can’t.”

It was an half-hearted argument. Because she wanted to leave and Rhys knew it. But his father would likely hear about it and be disappointed. As much as she was bored, she didn’t want to disappoint him. Or rather, she didn’t want him to mad at Rhys.

As if he was reading her thoughts, Rhys added, “Dad never stayed until midnight at these things either.”

Feyre didn’t need more convincing. She gave him a quick nod and then, Rhys was pulling her along towards the lobby. While they waited for the elevator, he pressed a quick kiss to the tip of her nose and said, “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

She watched open-mouthed as he disappeared from sight and for a moment she felt alone and stranded but by the time the elevator arrived and the doors slid open, Rhys was back at her side.

“Ready?” He asked, grinning like a child on Christmas morning.

“Ready for what?” Feyre frowned at him.

But he just grabbed her hand and pulled her into the elevator. He pulled so hard that she stumbled into him and he caught her by wrapping his arms around her tightly and kissing her deeply.

She laughed into the kiss, letting him bend her over and kiss her like they were characters in a movie.

They laughed all the way back to their suite and if she noticed Rhys looking slightly nervous, she chalked it up to the fact that they had just ditched the party.

He opened the door, peeking inside before holding it open for her.

Feyre was confused for a split-second before she let out a sharp breath.

The living room of their suite was lit in the warm golden lights of what must have been hundreds of candles. They were everywhere: on the coffee table, the marble mantlepiece and even on the floor, creating a sort-of pathway towards the bay windows that gave their suite its name.

From there, you had a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower and the hotel had been smart enough to make it a focal point of the suite.

Feyre had spent quite a few hours on that seat in the early mornings while Rhys still slept, sketching the view.

And now, the bay windows were framed with tiny burning flames and rose petals. She could see a shiny silver cart filled with sweets and a bucket that held a bottle of champagne right beside it.

“Rhys,” Feyre whispered. She didn’t turn around to look at him. She just stepped slowly into the room but stopped right at the edge of that pathway lit with candles.

She felt his hand against the small of her back, his thumb gently stroking. “Yes, darling?”

Feyre opened her mouth to ask, but she couldn’t find the words. Instead, she listened as Rhys took a deep breath and then gently entwined their fingers and moved them towards the windows. She took care not to let her gown trail over the candles, but followed him. She was too dazed to say anything.

Rhys escorted her right into the cushions, only letting go of her hand when she was seated and trailing her eyes from the view inside to the view outside.

“Why?” Feyre asked, finally looking at him.

He was smiling, his eyes looking like sapphires in the candlelight. “Why not? I thought we’d have our own sort of party upstairs.”

“You- you planned this.” She said, her voice accusing.

His smile turned feline. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to stay down there for long. Do you blame me?”

She shook her head, eyes drifting back to the window. She could make out people on the streets. They were excited and holding hands, hurrying this way and that.

A soft popping sound made her turn back. Rhys flashed her a smirk, the bottle in his hands and asked, “Does my lady want a drink?”

Rolling her eyes, she laughed and said, “Yes, she does.”

The smile he gave her was full of some strange longing and Feyre’s heart clenched at the sight. She didn’t know why but he somehow looked both sad and excited at the same time.

“Rhys,” Feyre began, but stopped when he held the glass to her and pressed another kiss to the tip of her nose.

“Do you want some music?”

She nodded and let her eyes drift back to the view outside, tuning out the sounds of Rhys moving about the room. Until the soft sounds of a violin filled the air around them.

He returned to her side, with his own glass and a cringe. “They only have a limited collection of music.”

It was an apology, but Feyre didn’t mind. Her mind was too occupied with her other senses. There was the view, both inside and out, but also Rhys’ scent. And the feeling of his body so close to hers.

Somehow in this dimly lit room, with the soft music and incredible champagne, he was the one thing that managed to take her breath away.

Rhys smiled as they looked at each other and whispered, “I love it when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” She asked, taking another sip to hide the blush in her cheeks.

“Like, despite all the artwork you’ve seen these past few days, you appreciate me more than any of it.”

She let out a laugh. In any other moment, she might have joked with him. Might have snorted and told him that he was full of himself. But right now, she just took his hand with hers and squeezed tightly. “Because, I do, Rhysand. I love art and I can loose myself in it for hours-”

“Don’t I know it.” He interrupted, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, but went on, “But all the art in the world couldn’t make me as happy as you make me. I love you so, _so_ much.”

She could have sworn his eyes were glowing. And when he bit his bottom lip, looking at her with so much emotion, Feyre set down her glass of champagne and leaned forward to kiss him.

He responded immediately. One hand slipping around her back, as his lips moved against hers. But when she moved closer, trying to deepen the kiss, he slipped out of her grasp.

She had barely opened her mouth to protest, when she found him rising from the seat only to drop to his knees before her. No. Only one knee.

Feyre looked at him, still breathless from the kiss.

“Feyre,” Rhys said, his breathing just as ragged. But he was smiling. And then he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and clutched it tightly. “I can’t believe that after all this preparation, all this planning, you manage to steal my grand moment. Making a speech about you love me and-” He stopped, laughing to himself and shaking his head, before he looked back at her, eyes blazing. “How typical of you.”

Tears were prickling in Feyre’s eyes now. She was barely able to breathe as she watched him flick open the box to reveal a lovely ring. Silver and intricate and topped with a sapphire.

He took a deep breath. “Feyre Archeron, from the very first moment I saw you, I thought you were extraordinary. After you kissed me that night, right under the stars, it was like you had stolen my heart and taken it with you when you left.”

She let out a watery laugh, remembering the way he had looked at her as the first fireworks had started.

“I still don’t quite understand how I was so lucky that you felt the same. Because when we went on our first day, I think I was already in love with you. I didn’t tell you because I thought it was too early and I would scare you off. But I was wrong. And that’s why I’m here now, on my knees before you and with a question, that might be coming too soon. You might think it’s too early, it might scare you off but I waited once before to tell you how I really felt and I promised myself not to do so again.”

She was crying now. A hand clasped over her mouth as she looked at him. As she fell in love with him over and over and over again.

“Feyre Archeron, will you marry me?”

A sob was her first answer. And Rhys looked terrified for a moment as she lurched forward and wrapped her arms around him.

But then, she said, “Yes, yes, Rhys. _Yes_.”

And his own arms wrapped around her, tightly. They were kissing again, both of them tasting her tears. It was only when they broke apart that she noticed that Rhys, too, was crying.

He gently took her hand, his own shaking as he slid the ring onto her finger. Then he kissed the back of her hand.

And as he was still looking at the ring, Feyre slipped down from the seat and joined him on the plush carpet.

—

They were naked and laughing, their limbs tangled, when the first fireworks started.

They twisted around, sitting up to watch the dark sky around the Eiffel Tower being lit up with millions of tiny specks of lights.

The faint sounds of people cheering was the only sound for a moment.

“Happy New Year, my love.” Rhys whispered into her ear.

Feyre turned her back to the window and looked at Rhysand. She whispered back, “Happy New Year, Rhys.”

They fell back against the plush carpet and only hours later did they remember that there was a perfectly comfortable bed just a few steps away.


End file.
